A Very Perry Wedding

by Marie Landry

  I swallow a groan. I love my friends so freaking much, but I could do without them discussing my life behind my back. Although, to be fair, it’s not like me actually being there stops them, as evidenced by the conversation Marisol and Gwen had at the café yesterday.

  “I am,” I say slowly. “Although I’m still not entirely sure how to go about it. Jasper seems like the type of person who would be impervious to flirting, and it’s not like I’m a master flirter anyway. Part of me wonders if I should just come out and tell him I’m interested or ask him on a date, but I’m not sure how that would go over either.”

  “Yeah, I somehow don’t think subtlety would work on Jasper.” Ivy glances in Hugh’s direction; he’s waiting on the other side of the car, hands tucked into the pockets of his windbreaker as he rocks back and forth on his heels. Ivy holds up a finger in a ‘one minute’ gesture, and he nods and wanders off toward the market. I grin when I spot his blue-and-green plaid rubber boots.

  “How much convincing did it take to get him to wear those?” I ask Ivy.

  She gives a little snort. “Considering my initial idea was for us to wear matching ones, he gave in pretty quickly when I found the plaid ones.”

  “Smart man.”

  “Indeed.” Her eyes follow Hugh for a moment before she turns back to me. “Anyway. From what I know about Jasper, I think simply being there is a good start. Let him see you as a safe space, someone he can talk to, rely on. If it doesn’t naturally progress from there, maybe you could try a less subtle approach.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as…you could do the whole cavewoman thing and club him over the head before dragging him back to your cave.”

  “Hmm. My apartment is rather cave like…”

  We’re both laughing as Gwen, Evan, and Jasper approach. There are hugs all around, including a quick one from Jasper, complete with back patting.

  “Beautiful day for an excursion,” he says as he shifts to stand beside me so he can survey the farm and market. He’s standing so close the sleeve of his dark-blue pullover brushes the sleeve of my lightweight denim jacket. “I bet this kind of thing is right up your alley.”

  The fact he knows that about me makes me think Ivy is right about continuing to gain Jasper’s trust. I’ve always longed for a relationship that has a solid foundation of friendship, so maybe strengthening my friendship with Jasper first is the key. For whatever reason, he’s found it easy to open up to me from the beginning. I’m happy to continue being a safe space for him and, if I can muster up the courage, I could add a little flirting in and see where it leads.

  Hopefully it leads to things like hand holding and kissing.

  We join the others, who are slowly making their way across the parking lot. I veer off slightly, gravitating toward the market and all the colorful produce. Baking may be my specialty, but I love cooking too and with my recent lack of finances, it’s been ages since I was able to make anything elaborate. I’m headed for a display of blue potatoes—blue potatoes!—when Gwen puts her arm around me and gently redirects me.

  “We’ll hit the market last,” she says. “That way anything you buy will stay fresh, especially if you venture into the perishables. If we end up running out of time after all the activities, I’ll come back with you some afternoon next week and we can take our time, okay?”

  “Sounds good.” I look longingly at the produce as Gwen steers me away. Despite my recent chat with Marisol and knowing I need to loosen the purse strings a bit, I still have to be careful. Even with Mom’s willingness to help and Marisol’s abuela wanting to invest in Cravings, all my savings are gone, which is scary. I figure it’s better to live a bit lean now, get to a place where I’ve built up some savings, and then I can indulge once in a while.

  As we join the others, Evan points to where a tractor is pulling a hay wagon to a stop. There are only a few people in line for the next hayride, so we decide we’ll start there since that activity takes the longest and includes apple and pumpkin picking. We’re greeted by Mr. Nansom—I recognize him from when Mom and I used to come here, although it was his father who ran the place back then—who accepts payment from Evan and invites us to hop into the wagon.

  Jasper and I are the last two in line after everyone else has clambered into the wagon. He offers me his hand, which I grip as I step onto a strategically-placed rectangular hay bale and then into the wagon. He climbs in behind me and settles next to me on a blanket-lined bale of hay.

  “I haven’t been on a hay ride since I was a boy,” he says, brushing dust off his hands. He’s sitting close, his shoulder and thigh pressed against mine. “I know it’s perfectly safe and yet I always feel like I’m going to tumble out.”

  I shift away from him a couple of inches and loop my arm through his. “There.”

  “So if I do fall, I’ll take you with me?”

  “I mean, the idea was more that you won’t fall now, but thanks for the image.”

  He nods slowly. “I’ll try to land first so I cushion your fall.”

  I peer at his face, unsure if he’s being serious or not. He meets and holds my gaze. After a few seconds, his earnest expression cracks and he lets out a quiet laugh. If I were braver, I’d make a joke about falling for Jasper to see how he reacts.

  The ride is a bumpy one. If I cling to Jasper a little tighter than necessary, I doubt he notices since we both nearly bounce from our seats on more than one occasion. We’re all laughing dizzily by the time Mr. Nansom stops in the apple orchard.

  “The ride’ll be smoother after we hit the pumpkin patch,” he promises as he hops down from the tractor and comes around to kick a hay bale into place as a step. He explains that each of us can pick one or two apples to eat or take with us, and we can buy different varieties of apples back at the market in quantities from small bags to bushels.

  I whip out my phone and follow the others, snapping pictures of them striking poses and climbing the ladders to pick apples. I manage to get a few adorable candid shots of Evan and Gwen being all lovey, which gives me the idea to make them a special photo album as a wedding gift. After a few minutes, I wander through the trees, smiling to myself at the sounds of my friends’ laughter paired with the buzzing of insects and the far-off hum of another tractor.

  I don’t stray far before turning back, continuing to take pictures of the trees, the vivid blue sky, and the group when they come into view. A flash of dark blue draws my eye to where Jasper is climbing a ladder and perusing the branches of a tree. After several moments of careful consideration, he chooses an apple and gently plucks it free.

  I approach the ladder as he descends. I’m quiet, not wanting to startle him, but he must know I’m here because he says, “You haven’t picked an apple yet, have you?”

  “No, I was wandering.” I wave my phone and tell him about my idea to make Gwen and Evan a photo album.

  “I’d love to help if I can,” he says.

  “That would be great. I’ll be staying with you this weekend for Thanksgiving, so maybe we can find time to go through our pictures and choose the best ones.” I hand him my phone so he can see the pictures I’ve taken so far today, and then I start climbing the ladder. A quiet click makes me turn to see the camera aimed at me.

  “There needs to be some pictures of you too,” Jasper says, smiling slightly from behind my phone. He snaps another picture when I smile in return, and then I hear a few more clicks as I select my apple and pluck it from the tree.

  On my way back down, I grip the ladder with one hand and turn so I’m facing outward. “Snap a selfie of us together,” I tell him. I’m still a couple of rungs up, making me taller than him, but from this angle, the picture captures both of us and some of the lower-hanging branches. As I take another step down so we can get a shot of us side by side, my hand slides over a rough patch of wood, and a splinter lodges in my pointer finger. A small gasp escapes me, followed by a hiss and a whispered curse.

  “What is it?” Jasper asks, movi
ng around the ladder to face me.

  “A splinter.” I shake my hand in an attempt to distract myself from the pain. Jasper grips my wrist gently to stop me as he inches even closer, examining my hand. My position on the ladder brings me eye level with him. For just a second, I’m distracted from the pain by his adorable frown of concern.

  “It’s lodged in quite deep,” he says. “I’ll see if Mr. Nansom has a First Aid kit or something similar in the tractor. We need tweezers and an antibacterial cream or spray. If you’ll climb down the rest of the way and wait here, I’ll go see what I can do.”

  I bet Jasper is a barrel of laughs on Perry family vacations. I have a sudden image of him carrying his own First Aid kit with him everywhere. Probably in a fanny pack so he can keep it on him at all times. I remember Evan telling me once that when Jasper became his and Hadley’s guardian after their parents’ death, there were times when he half expected Jasper to wrap them both in bubble wrap and refuse to let them leave home. I laughed at the time, but now that I know Jasper better, it’s less funny. He really does have a habit of taking the weight of the world onto his shoulders.

  “That won’t be necessary. I think I can—” I bring my hand to my mouth and attempt to pull the splinter free with my teeth.

  “Oh, but that’s so—” Jasper watches in horror as I pull the splinter out and turn the other way to discreetly spit it out. I fish my hand sanitizer from my purse and slather it on my hands.

  When Jasper continues to stare at me with wide eyes and his lips slightly parted, I hold up my hand. “There. It’s like it never happened. I’ll let you kiss it better if it’ll ease your mind, though.”

  When Jasper’s eyes widen further, I realize how flirty the words sounded. I was only kidding, and yet something flickers across his face that tells me he’s considering it. I hold my breath as he leans in closer. His warm breath brushes my hand, making me suddenly aware of the throbbing in my finger where the splinter was. It’s like my heart is reaching out through the part of me that’s closest to him, begging for contact. I imagine his lips pressing against my finger, the pressure easing the pain, slowing the steady pulse beneath my skin.

  And then I nearly tumble off the ladder when Mr. Nansom calls to the group that it’s time to carry on with the hayride.

  Jasper grips my elbow while I maneuver the last couple rungs of the ladder. I expect him to release me the second my feet hit the ground, but his hand moves from my elbow to the small of my back and stays there until we reach the wagon. The others are all talking, laughing, and chomping away on the apples they picked, so none of them notice our silence as we get settled in the wagon.

  Jasper pulls a dark purple handkerchief from a pocket inside his jacket—because of course he carries a hanky—and wipes off his apple. When he’s finished, he balances the apple in his lap, covers his palm with the square of material, and holds it out. “It’s clean. I always keep one with me just in case, much to my siblings’ amusement.”

  “I’m sure it comes in handy,” I say, depositing my apple in his cloth-covered hand. He polishes it to a glossy shine before holding it out again. I take it from him with a murmured thanks and bite into it, letting out a squeal when juice spurts down my chin.

  “I believe you were being at least slightly sarcastic when you said you were sure this comes in handy…” Jasper says, waving the hanky.

  “I’m sorry I underestimated the usefulness of what used to be carried around by old men and used as snot rags.” I take another bite of the apple; I’m already covered in juice, what difference will a bit more make?

  Jasper laughs under his breath. I turn my head to look at him—I can never get enough of those short glimpses of humor from him—and he reaches out, gently wiping at my chin with the hanky. I go very still, studying the way his brows draw together in concentration. His eyes meet mine and he freezes, then all but tosses the cloth at me. “I’m sorry, I should have let you—”

  “No, no, it’s fine,” I say hastily, taking the cloth and giving my face a good, hard swipe. “I would have drawn the line at you spitting on it to wipe my face the way my mom did when I was little.”

  We’re saved from this odd little dance we’ve been doing the last few minutes by the wagon coming to a jarring halt. I rock to the side and bump into Gwen, the motion making my half-eaten apple fly from my hand and into the hay at my feet.

  “Ready to pick some pumpkins?” Gwen asks, gripping my hand to pull me to my feet and then frowning down at the stickiness that’s transferred from my hand to hers. I fish my hand sanitizer from my purse once more and, as she squirts some on, I realize I’m still holding Jasper’s handkerchief. He’s already in the pumpkin patch talking to Hugh, so I tuck the hanky in my pocket before following Gwen off the wagon.

  “Are you getting a pumpkin for yourself?” Gwen asks as we start wandering.

  “I was debating it,” I tell her, scanning the field. “I don’t have much room for one at the apartment. I was contemplating maybe doing a pumpkin decorating contest at the café, though. People would pay a cover fee of sorts, and I’d supply a ton of stuff to carve or decorate pumpkins. The fee would cover the supplies, plus maybe two pumpkin-flavored goodies of their choice from a set menu? I know it’s not much notice, but if I planned it for the week before Halloween, I’d have enough time to get everything together and advertise.”

  “I think that’s a brilliant idea,” Gwen says.

  “I’d be happy to help you organize it,” Jasper says from a few feet away. When we turn to look at him, he gives us a rueful expression as he steps forward to join us. “I couldn’t help overhearing. You could likely work out a deal with the farm to buy pumpkins in bulk.”

  “I was actually thinking about discussing bulk apple options with them for the café,” I say slowly, thinking it over. “I’m not happy with our current supplier, which is a problem since I need tons of apples for the season.”

  “There you go,” Gwen says. “Quality products for the café, your first foray into hosting a themed event, and helping a fellow local business in the process. Win-win for everyone. And now you can both help me by choosing some beautiful pumpkins as decorations for the wedding.”

  By the time Mr. Nansom calls us back to the wagon, each of us has chosen two pumpkins to be part of Gwen and Evan’s wedding decor. We load our goods and ourselves into the wagon as the tractor starts up again. As promised, the rest of the ride is smoother, and I’m able to take pictures without worrying my phone will fly from my hands at any moment.

  We trundle along through the fields and part of the forest at the back of the property. At one point I notice everyone has their faces turned up toward the sun like flowers seeking the light, and I close my eyes and do the same, inhaling slow, deep breaths of fresh air.

  When we return to our starting point, I stay behind to talk to Mr. Nansom while the others take the pumpkins to the car. At my inquiry about buying in bulk, he directs me to his wife’s office at the side of the closest building and says he’ll call her to tell her I’m on my way. After my short, successful meeting with Mrs. Nansom, I join the others at the corn maze. When we all come out the other side, we gravitate toward the playground and animal pens.

  Ivy finds me near the duck pond. “Hugh and I need to get back to town soon for a late dinner meeting tonight.” She rolls her eyes, and I laugh. “Did you want to check out the market before we leave?”

  We take the long way around the pond, stopping to pet the black potbelly pig inside the fenced-in animal area. When we reach the market, Ivy ventures inside, telling me she’s on the hunt for cider, and I linger outside to check out all the fruits and veggies.

  I’m just about to head inside when a display of candy apples catches my eye. The enormous apples are covered in caramel and sprinkled with chopped nuts. I reach for one, practically salivating, before noticing the handwritten price sign. I sigh, my hand dropping to my side. I hate how neurotic I’ve become about spending money. If I were to buy one of
these now, I know I’d end up dwelling on the chunk it took out of my grocery money and how it could have been better spent.

  “Why are you like this?” I murmur to myself. Which is, of course, when Jasper comes along and pauses beside me.

  “Talking to the caramel apples?” he asks.

  “Singing them a love song,” I tell him. “Of the unrequited variety.”

  He looks puzzled. Thankfully, I don’t have to explain my weirdness to Jasper because Evan calls to him from inside. “Excuse me, I’m being summoned,” he says to me. “I’ll be sure to find you to say goodbye before we leave.”

  With one final, longing look at the candy apples, I wander away. I haven’t spent any money yet today—Gwen and Evan paid for the hayride, and I didn’t have to top up my nearly-empty gas tank since I got a ride—so I decide to fill a basket with twenty or thirty dollars worth of fresh produce. Produce that, unfortunately, doesn’t include a candy apple or even the cool blue potatoes I spied when we first arrived. It does, however, include fresh mushrooms, regular potatoes, blackberries, apples, carrots, cheese, and a couple of other things. I can feel good about supporting a local farm, plus my stomach will thank me for the break from frozen dinners and café leftovers.

  I take my basket to the two-person checkout counter and let out a sound between a groan and a laugh when I see the display of candy apples between the cash registers. I hold firm to my resolve, though; I’d have had to forgo at least two of the items in my basket just for that one candy apple. Besides, with the apples I’ve bulk ordered I can make my own damn candy apples. They won’t be the giant ones they sell here, and they won’t have nuts since the cost of nuts is outrageous, but maybe I can perfect regular-size candy apples and sell them in the café.

  A young man in a green Nansom Farms apron approaches, and I purposely turn away from the apples to engage him in conversation as he rings up my purchases. After a minute, Jasper appears at the second checkout. I smile at him and try not to be obvious about examining the items he sets on the counter: a jug of apple cider, a bottle of sparkling cider, a pint of blackberries, and a small bag of decorative gourds. I peer up at his face, instantly feeling better about my own curiosity when I find him inspecting my items.